


Speak Up, Take a Stand

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [17]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Felisian, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Cat/Human Hybrids, Davey is a Sneaky Badass, Established Relationship, Felisian!Jack, Harassment, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: Davey had hoped that Oscar Delancey's strange fixation on him would fade now that they aren't in the same classes, but the continued catcalls tell him otherwise. That he can deal with, butthis? This is crossing a line, and Davey's putting a stop to it now.





	Speak Up, Take a Stand

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this one for a while now. It was originally written to be the Halloween episode, but it never felt like it fit right. Minor trigger warning for verbal harassment, homophobic slurs, and a brief moment of physical violence.

For the most part, Davey enjoys his work-study job at the campus library. There are definitely worse jobs he could've ended up with, for sure, so he's lucky his application to the library got accepted. It's mostly inane work; checking out books, replacing the returned ones on shelves, and directing people to the right section of the cavernous building. He even occasionally gets to work on his homework during the rare slow moments.

The worst part, really, is the hours. Last semester Davey worked primarily afternoon shifts, but this semester, most of his classes are later in the day, and he had to adjust his work schedule to accommodate, meaning he's working more evening shifts than anything. Not only is it inconvenient for his sleep schedule - working until midnight really sucks when you've got a nine a.m. Spanish class - it's also cutting into his already limited time with his boyfriend.

Davey's grateful that it's Friday as he rushes through finishing up his closing chores for the day. He doesn't have to work this Saturday, and he's looking forward to spending at least part of the day with Jack. Sure, some of that will probably still require them to do homework, with midterms only two weeks away, but he still usually prefers that to doing homework alone in his too-quiet dorm (although the new CD player Jack bought him for Valentine's helps when he really needs to knuckle-down.)

So Davey's excited when he gets the last rack of books tucked back into their places on the shelves. He double-checks that no more books have appeared at the counter since he started, and then shuts down his computer. Tossing a quick goodnight over his shoulder to the faculty staff that will actually lock up the building, Davey pulls on his coat and escapes into the night.

It's cold out, but the first whispers of spring are starting to sneak in now that they've reached March, the last of the snow melted and tiny green buds forming on the naked tree branches. Even at quarter-to-midnight, there are still scattered people wandering around campus, their coat collars turned up against the night breeze as they follow the endless sidewalks. At this time of night, it's mostly students headed out to enjoy the weekend, although a few have clearly already started, judging by their speaking volume.

Davey wraps his coat tighter around his body and starts walking, but he barely makes it three steps before a familiar voice stops him short. "C'mon, keep walkin', dude. I ain't gonna start nothin' with ya." Davey's brow furrows, and he rounds the corner of the library. The spot is shielded from the wind by the building, and he can immediately pick out two figures near the wall, illuminated by a nearby streetlamp.

Jack is leaning back against the bricks in a pose that would look nonchalant to anyone who doesn't know him, but Davey can see the way his ears are pressed almost flat back against his skull and his twitching tail is curled close to his leg. And in front of him, jeering and crowding into his space, is Oscar Delancey, the jackass from Davey's biology class last semester who can't take no for an answer.

He hasn't had to deal with Oscar much this term since they no longer have a class together, but their schedules overlap somewhere because Davey still crosses paths with him on campus about once a week. Davey had hoped that Oscar's strange fixation on him would fade now that they don't see each other all the time, but that's apparently not true, judging by the continued catcalls and now this. An ominous chill running up his spine, Davey starts for where the pair are standing.

"Oh yeah?" Oscar asks sarcastically. He doesn't look entirely steady on his feet, swaying a little where he's standing, but his attention doesn't waver from his attempt to intimidate Jack. "'Cause ya sure didn't have a problem startin' nothin' before. What's'a matter? Ain't so brave when your pretty princess ain't here to impress?"

Jack's eyes narrow dangerously, his lips drawing back into a sneer that bares his elongated canines. "I toldja, I ain't gonna fight you, pal," Jack says firmly, his voice dropping a register the way it does when he's getting angry. "So step off."

Oscar makes a derisive noise, but Davey reaches them before the other man can make another move toward Jack. Pushing Oscar's shoulder to force him back a few steps, Davey inserts himself at Jack's side. "Problem?" he asks in mock politeness.

Scoffing, Oscar's eyes pan up and down Davey. "Wow, look at you," he says, smirking. From here, Davey can smell the alcohol on his breath, a sharp, acrid tang in the air. Oscar tips his head, surveying the long scar that runs up the side of Davey's face, the last of the stitches finally removed two weeks ago. "Damn, your pet kitty," Jack makes another low, warning noise,  "scratched you up good, didn't he? Didn't know you liked it rough."

Davey forces on a pleasant smile, although it's paper-thin. "I'm not surprised that you know nothing about me or what I like," he says, watching Oscar's condescending expression flicker, "considering the only communication we've had were your frankly pathetic attempt to chat me up the first day of school and your subsequent misguided strategy of hurling slurs like that's going to somehow make me change my mind about rejecting you."

"Why you li'l-" Oscar hisses furiously, stepping forward. Davey lifts his chin, not backing down as he meets Oscar's bloodshot eyes, and he feels Jack straighten up pointedly at his shoulder. "Like I'd even want a cissy fag like you anyway," Oscar says snidely.

"Whatever helps you sleep," Davey says with a sardonic grin. "My point is that this little game of yours, it's over. You asked me out, I said no. End of story. No more stupid nicknames. No more insults and catcalls. And definitely no more cornering me or my boyfriend. You're going to stop, and I don't want to hear from you again. Understood?"

Oscar growls. "You listen here, ya fuckin' twink," he says, and even drawing himself up to his full height, he has to crane his head up to glare heatedly at Davey. Jack growls, but Davey grabs his arm to stop him; the felisian doesn't look happy about it, teeth bared and tail lashing, but he doesn't make another move toward Oscar. "You think you're so special, huh? But you're nothin' but a fuckin' fairy and ya ain't worth my spit. So you or your li'l pussy playboy piss me off again, I'mma fuck you both up and show ya how rough a _real_ man can give it to ya, got me?"

This time Davey has to physically restrain Jack, injecting himself between the men with both hands flat against his chest to stop him as Jack makes a furious noise. "Jack, stop," Davey says levelly. "I'm handling it." The felisian shoots an angry look at him now, eyes flashing yellow as they catch the lights, but he at least listens.

"Yes, Oscar, I got you," says Davey, turning back to the other man, and the smile on Davey's face makes him visibly falter. "I got you loud and clear." And then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping the screen and turning it to display the waveform of an audio file.

"The fuck's that?" Oscar asks, but he's taken a half-step back, his eyes darting uncertainly.

"This is a recording of everything you just said," Davey says, all pretense of friendliness dropping off his face, his voice flat, "and it's going to be passed on to the university administration if you don't _back the fuck off_." This time he's the one to take a step forward aggressively, and Oscar retreats another step. "So unless you'd like to explain to the dean of students why you're threatening violence and sexual assault, I would advise you to leave me and my boyfriend alone from now on. Got me?"

Face flushed, Oscar's jaw flexes as he chokes on enraged responses. Davey smiles scornfully. "That's what I thought. Have a nice night, Mr. Delancey." Tucking his phone back into his pocket, Davey holds out his hand to Jack, who grins and follows his lead. The impotent rage on Oscar's face is far too satisfying, and it takes everything Davey has to not laugh as they step around the gaping man toward the sidewalk.

They only make it a couple of steps before a flicker of motion in the corner of his eye makes Davey's stomach clench. He barely sees it, barely registers the grasping hand at the edge of his vision before several things happen in rapid succession. A fist closes around a whip of dark, dappled fur; Jack lets out a startled sound, yelp and growl and hiss all at once, as he jerks away from the touch; and Davey wheels around with his left arm already cocked.

In the next moment, Oscar Delancey is laid out on the grass and clutching his bleeding nose.

Ignoring the howling man on the ground, Davey turns back to Jack anxiously. "You okay?" he asks as he checks over his boyfriend for any injuries. There's a wild light to his amber eyes, and his tail is expanded to its fullest, but Jack nods. "C'mon, let's go," Davey says, casting one last contemptuous look at the man curled up on the damp grass. "I think Oscar's learned his lesson, don't you?"

A couple of people have stopped to watch the interaction, frozen on the sidewalk in awe. Davey doesn't care, keeping his head up and gaze forward as he and Jack walk away. Behind them, Oscar is still spitting out streams of curse words on the ground, his voice thick through what's undoubtedly a broken nose.

Lacing his hand tightly through Jack's, Davey walks so close to his side that their shoulders keep knocking. It was easy to ignore in the moment, but Davey's heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels breathless from adrenaline. Thankfully, it's not a long walk from the library to Davey's dorm building, where he's forced to let go of Jack's hand to dig out his keys.

"Hey, hey, Davey, look at me, wouldja?" Jack says, catching hold of Davey's shaking hand before he can try for the door. The felisian turns him, ducking straight into Davey's line of sight so he can get a better look at Davey's face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Davey says, brow furrowed. "He didn't even touch me. You're okay, right? He didn't pull your tail, did he? Because I know you can slip discs that way and if you don't-" The rest of Davey's sentence is muffled when Jack kisses him hard, and after a second, he exhales and relaxes into the contact.

Jack is grinning when they separate. "You never should'a taught me that trick," he says teasingly.

Davey huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes for good measure. Satisfied that there's nothing urgent to be addressed, he unlocks the dorm building and then drags Jack in after him. Guest curfew be damned, there's no question of Jack leaving right now - the irrational nerves still thrumming in Davey's chest want him near. Need to know he's safe; that they're both safe.

Once the door to Davey's room is closed behind them, Davey turns and examines Jack more thoroughly in the better lighting. His pupils are slightly dilated even under the fluorescent strip light, and the fur of his tail is standing on end, more than doubling its width. Although Jack's ears are folded halfway back, his expression relaxes as he surveys Davey in return.

"Seriously, Jack, you're okay?" Davey asks because he needs to hear it.

"M'fine, babe," Jack responds, the low brogue of his dormant New York accent betraying him. "Just spooked me, is all," he admits with a wry laugh. "Barely touched me 'fore ya busted his face in. You tryna break your other hand too?" He takes Davey's wrist, lifting his hand to brush a thumb over the reddened knuckles.

"It's fine," Davey says dismissively, although there's no hiding the wince when Jack presses down on his middle knuckle and it sends a needle of pain up his hand. Punching someone hurts a lot worse than Davey remembered. "I didn't even hit him that hard."

"Yeah, okay, tough guy," Jack says dryly. His eyes linger on Davey's face for a second, and he must see something there because his expression softens. Jack lifts Davey's bag off his shoulder, sets it aside, and then promptly folds Davey into a hug. The tension floods out of Davey like he's deflating, and he leans gratefully into the warm support of the felisian's embrace. "S'okay, Dave," Jack murmurs into the side of his neck. "We's okay."

Davey knows that. He knows that, in reality, the situation wasn't all that dangerous to begin with; they outnumbered Oscar, and he was clearly not sober, so he wouldn't have been much of a fight even if he'd tried something. Still, the reassurance calms Davey. He thinks of the flash of panic in Jack's eyes, the frantic, instinctual noise of fear he made as he wrenched himself free of Oscar's grip, and it makes his blood boil.

Sure, Oscar couldn't have hurt them much, but that doesn't mean he didn't cause damage anyway.

"I swear to God, if he'd hurt you-" Davey growls venomously.

"But he didn't," Jack cuts across him, rubbing a hand up and down Davey's spine. "I'm okay, Davey. We're okay." Davey takes a long, slow breath to steady himself, clenching his fingers in Jack's shirt. "Am a little annoyed with ya, though," the felisian says, his tone playful. "You promised if it came to blows with that douchebag, you'd lemme help."

Davey laughs, his anxiety easing enough that he feels safe leaning back from Jack's chest. "Sorry, I might've gotten a bit too enthusiastic," he jokes.

Combing Davey's fringe of his forehead, Jack chuckles. "Ya know, youse a bituva hypocrite."

"Am not," Davey snaps back in a defensive reflex, scowling as he meets Jack's gaze. The felisian is still smiling, amber eyes sparkling mischievously, and the tightness bleeds out of Davey's shoulders when he realizes it's not a real rebuke. "What do you mean?"

"This," Jack says, holding up Davey's hand pointedly. "All youse fussin' about not wanting someone to fight for you, gettin' mad at me for telling that guy to fuck off the first time. Ain't the same when the shoe's on the other foot, huh?"

"That's not - I mean I wasn't-"

"And it ain't the first time you've done it either," Jack continues, grinning impishly. "'Cause I remember, our first date you was ready to go have words with Race 'bout callin' me 'kitten' 'til you found out we're family." He cocks his head, one eyebrow arched playfully. "What's'a matter, Dave? Ain't so good at followin' your own rules?"

Davey opens and closes his mouth twice, floundering for some way to defend himself, and finds he doesn't have a leg to stand on. Jack's right; for all Davey's complaints that he didn't want Jack to step in and fight his battles, Davey's never had a problem with returning the favor. He didn't even notice he does it, some part of him just inherently geared toward protecting this person he cares about. He'd been fine with all of Oscar's insults and posturing right up until he dared to lay a hand on Jack.

Groaning, Davey lets his head drop. "Shit, apparently not," he admits, chest tightening with shame as he realizes what a double-standard he's set. "Sorry, I - I didn't even think about it, you're right."

Jack laughs, free hand tipping Davey's chin up again until he's forced to meet his eyes. "Lucky for you, I think it's sweet," the felisian says. He leans in, sneaking a short, tender kiss, and then smiles. "You wasn't kiddin' about bein' in fights before, were ya? 'Cause that was a helluva left hook. Was kinda hot."

Snorting, Davey rolls his eyes. "I told you soccer gets heated," he says with a shallow shrug. In truth, it'd only happened twice, but they both stand out vividly in his memory. Davey leans into Jack's space again, drawn naturally into his orbit. "What were you even doing there?" he asks curiously. "It's midnight."

"Waitin' for you, obviously," Jack replies, chuckling. "Didn't get to see ya yesterday and neither us gotta work tomorrow. Thought I'd try and con ya into comin' over. I miss our Friday nights."

Davey smiles, melting into the felisian. "Me too," he agrees. Their relationship began with weekly dinner and Netflix on Friday nights, but their new semester schedules have put those on pause for now. He considers for a minute, but it's cold and late, and with the adrenaline gone, he's exhausted, not really in the mood to walk several blocks to Jack's apartment.

It seems like Jack's thinking the same thing because before Davey can say it, the felisian murmurs, "I mean, since I'm already here, they just put this new zombie movie up on Netflix and it looks super shitty. Wanna make fun of it with me? Promise I'll be quiet so the dorm cops don't catch us."

In no time, the two of them are stretched out on Davey's narrow bed, so thoroughly tangled together to fit it's impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. It soothes Davey more than anything else, the feeling of being wrapped up securely in Jack's chaotic sprawl of limbs making him feel like they're really, properly safe now. The room is illuminated only by Davey's laptop, playing the cheesy B-movie that is every bit as terrible as Jack predicted, one of those monstrosities that's so bad it's almost good.

Only halfway paying attention to the movie, Davey's more preoccupied with casually carding his fingers through the fur of Jack's tail where it's draped onto his stomach, smoothing the fluff back into place while subtly checking for any sign of tenderness or swelling. Since a tail is just an extension of the spine, a long series of individual vertebrae, it is prone to the same sort of injuries, and Davey doesn't want to find out Jack slipped a disc or something. He heard too many horror stories when Les was first born, doctors warning about nerve damage and paralysis and a dozen other terrifying risks.

"Don't think I dunno what youse doin'," Jack mutters against the back of Davey's neck, where his head is tucked. His tail fidgets in Davey's palm, and he presses a kiss behind Davey's ear. "I would'a told ya if my tail was hurt."

"No, you wouldn't," Davey counters with a huff, casting a glance over his shoulder at the felisian's profile. "You're a stubborn ass and you know it." Jack laughs and doesn't deny it, burrowing his face into the curve of Davey's neck. Still, Davey pointedly stops checking for injuries and goes back to lazily stroking the soft, dense fur he so loves the feel of. "If he'd actually hurt you, we'd be going to the dean of students first thing in the morning. Words are one thing, but that-"

"Hey, it's fine, Dave, let it go," Jack says, speaking over him when Davey's voice starts to rise with anger. "I'm a tough kitty, take more than a li'l tug to get me." Davey's stomach lurches as he thinks about the telltale bumps and hard spots beneath Jack's fur, indicators of long-healed damage from his abusive father. Honestly, it was knowing how much Jack already hates his tail being touched, let alone in an aggressive manner, that made Davey react the way he did.

"And it don't matter, don't think we're gonna have no more problems with that fella," Jack says, propping himself up onto his elbow to smirk down at Davey. "That recordin' trick was genius."

Davey laughs. "We're just lucky he didn't call my bluff," he admits. When Jack's brow furrows, Davey digs his phone out of his pocket. He taps the audio recorder app on the main screen and then on the most recent file, the one he'd pulled up before showing the screen to Oscar Delancey. Grinning, Davey presses play.

" _El señor y la señora Dursley, que vivían en el número cuatro de Privet Drive, estaban..._ "

A bemused smile slips onto his face as Jack cocks an ear toward the speaker. "Is that - Specs?"

"He's been helping me with my Spanish class," Davey explains. He taps the screen to cut off the recording, tossing his phone onto the bedside table. "The reading and writing are okay, but I'm having a hard time hearing and understanding it. So he's been sending me recordings of him reading stuff in Spanish, since he's fluent and all, so I can read along and hear the way it's supposed to sound for practice. I've got a couple dozen of those."

Jack smirks, an expression of wonder blossoming on his features as he looks down at Davey. "But you told that Oscar fella it was-"

"Like I said, we're lucky he didn't call my bluff," Davey chuckles and shrugs.

"David Jacobs, that's downright devious," Jack remarks, but there's a thoroughly pleased grin on his face. He gazes down at Davey in a blend of awe and pride, shifting to bracket his arms on either side of Davey's head. "Damn, every time I think ya can't get sexier..."

Blushing, Davey laughs and rolls his eyes. "You have the strangest turn-ons," he says dryly, but he can't fight a smile.

"Lucky you," Jack jokes, leaning in to kiss a line up the side of Davey's neck.

Davey hums, warmth curling contentedly in his chest. "Yeah, lucky me."

**Author's Note:**

> The Spanish translation was lifted directly from the Spanish version of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone on Amazon. If the translation is wrong, it's not my fault for once.


End file.
